Sleeping
by I Call Him Fred
Summary: The battle had passed in a blur, but there were three scenes looping through her mind:  the jumble of Weasleys surrounding Fred's body in the Great Hall, Harry's limp and dusty body in Hagrid's arms, and then Harry again, impossibly and gloriously alive.


It was over. It was all over. The fear, the loss... finished. Ginny Weasley could hardly believe it. The night had passed in such a blur, but there are three scenes that are looping endlessly through her mind. The first is the jumble of red hair and pain and freckles that was clumped on the flagstones of the Great Hall during the hour long reprieve. The second is the vision of Harry's limp and dusty body in Hagrid's enormous hands, and the sudden, awful sensation that Ginny had been eviscerated. The third, and last, scene is Harry standing, impossibly and beautifully alive, green eyes catching the sun that was just cresting the horizon, gripping two wands in his right hand and with the most indescribable look on his face.

Ginny, sitting in the Great Hall amidst the celebrations, has to take time to sort through all three of these separately- each one is so intensely and permanently impressed upon her that she can only think of one at a time, or else she will be overwhelmed to the point of needing to join Gilderoy Lockhart in his ward at Saint Mungo's.

Fred. Ginny is nothing short of astonished. Her heart feels a bit as if it was just punched out of her chest- she feels that hollow. When she thinks of Percy's grief-stricken face, Ron's senseless, hurt rage, and the agonized cry her mum let out when she understood what had happened, all that Ginny can register is a faint buzzing in her ears. It makes it all the worse that she can't even recall all the times that she and the twins had raised all sorts of hell- dungbombs, any manner of practical jokes. Thinking of one particular prank involving Ron's soap and a special order cream that caused colossal warts to sprout up all over his body, Ginny chokes on a laugh that quickly turns into a sob. What bothers her is the injustice of it all. Fred- _Fred_, of all people, who was always so alive and vibrant and vividly present, who was always thinking, or laughing, or throwing Ginny his most mischievous grin, whispering, "Let's keep this one between us, eh, Gin?" How unfair it is that one of the most alive people in the world is dead.

Ginny looks across the table to where George sits, shoulders slumped in such a defeated manner that her heart breaks for him. His freckles contrast sharply with the chalk-white of his skin, and he stares, blindly, at his hands. Ginny almost can't stand to look at him- his pain hangs tangibly the air, and she feels that she's intruding by witnessing his grief. George's quiet, private mourning seems somehow more awful and real that the great, clenching sobs that her mother is emitting beside her.

Ginny wonders if anyone could recover from a blow like this one. Fred and George had been like one spirit split into two bodies. She can't imagine George being quite the same ever again.

Ginny knows that she will bear the pain of this war for the remainder of her life. These months of deterioration, deaths, the horror of Hogwarts being taken over by Death Eaters... All of it culminated in this whirlwind, emotional battle. She hasn't slept extremely well for the past year- between the Death Eaters and her gnawing worry for her family and friends, namely Harry, she hasn't had the ability to let herself relax. All the yearning to be included with Harry, Ron, and Hermione ended in Ginny not having much of a role at all in this fight, but, for the first time, Ginny is beginning to feel grateful that she hadn't succeeded in playing a large part. Not grateful for being apart from them for nearly a year, but Ginny remembers the first time she'd seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione again, not even twelve hours ago, in the Room of Requirement. Ginny had tried to mask her shock at how thin the three of them looked, how dirty they were, how unshaven and untrimmed and unrested. To be honest, while she would like to think that she would have been a help, Ginny worries that she would've held them back. She did the best job she could of rebelling at Hogwarts anyways. She certainly hadn't known the whole story either, as the inexplicable events of the night had shown: Harry's wild searches about the castle, Neville's killing of the giant snake, Harry's death and how he came back to life.

Harry. Ginny shudders a little when she remembers the sensation, like falling and being crushed under the Hogwarts Express, that had hit her when she had realized what the seemingly tiny bundle in Hagrid's arms was. The raw shriek that was torn out of her chest had frightened her. Ginny recalls her sudden fury- her brother, and now Harry too? Who else was to be taken from her? She even felt, for one short second, the most irrational anger at Harry: how could he have left her like this? He couldn't have even said goodbye, or apologized for ripping her heart to shreds? Ginny has loved Harry for half of her life. She doubts that she could have ever been happy again if he really had died. Ginny Weasley can't exist without loving Harry Potter.

But then (and, hours later, Ginny's heart still aches with the irrepressible, impossible joy that had flooded through her at this event) Harry had come back to life. In her eyes, he'd seemed the most glorious sort of angel: the sunlight shining in a ragged halo about his messy hair and illuminating his green eyes. She remembers the strong, determined set to his shoulders and his white-knuckled grip on his wand. Ginny's heart had still been pounding in terror at this point, but the sight of Harry and Voldemort facing each other, alone, once and for all, gave her hope. Nothing, not even death, could beat Harry Potter. Voldemort didn't stand a chance.

And then it was over, and Harry was standing, relief and shock, finality and joy chasing each other across his incredibly dirty and completely beautiful face. He was the hero of the entire wizarding world, as he'd been Ginny's hero ever since her first year at Hogwarts. She'd always known, in her heart, that Harry would win. He was too good to lose.

Ginny stands up so abruptly that she knocks over a pitcher of pumpkin juice, but she doesn't care. There is only one thing that she cares about now. Gently pulling her fingers from her mum's (who is presently hiccupping into her dad's chest), Ginny sets off towards the doors, almost grim in her determination.

By the time she reaches the exit of the Great Hall, Ginny is running. She nearly crashes into Ron and Hermione, who are walking in, holding hands and having trouble keeping their eyes off of each other.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny gasps.

Bemusedly, Ron replies, "Why?"

"Where is he?" Ginny repeats impatiently.

"He said something about a sandwich-" Ron starts, and then at the look on Ginny's face, says quickly: "All right, all right, he's in Gryffindor tower," and Ginny is off like a shot. As she's sprinting off she hears Ron say stupidly, obviously missing the hundreds of deliriously happy people still lounging about the Great Hall in front of him, "Is there a fire?"

Under normal circumstances, Ginny would grin at Hermione's exasperated "Honestly, Ronald", but all that Ginny is aware of at the moment is that Harry, for the first time in a year, is not hunting Voldemort and is close enough for her to be with.

Ginny tears through the corridors, finally arriving at the portrait hole, gasping for air and clutching at a stitch in her side. A very exuberantly tipsy Fat Lady swings forward to let her in. Ginny clambers through, almost tripping in her haste. Harry isn't in the common room, so she takes the stairs to the boys' dormitories two at a time, banging the seventh years' door open. She stops abruptly, chest heaving.

Harry is sitting on his bed, a giant sandwich sitting on the plate in his lap. He is looking up at her with such a startled expression on his face that Ginny chokes out a strangled laugh and launches herself at him. He stands to meet her, throwing his plate onto his bedside table and pressing her tightly to him in one fluid motion.

Ginny's momentum propels them both back onto his bed, where Harry promptly cracks the back of his head on the headboard. The contact makes a frighteningly loud crashing noise. Ginny is sure, for one heart-stopping moment, that she has succeeded where Voldemort could not and has killed The Boy Who Lived. They both pause in the middle of their ravenous kiss, Harry's hand flying to touch the back of his hair, Ginny's eyes wide. He winces as his fingers explore this new wound. He looks up at her with surprised eyes.

"Ouch," Harry says.

Ginny is aghast, and props herself up on his chest in horror.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly and fervently, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

Harry interrupts her, dragging her mouth back to his and kissing her hungrily.

"...Sorry," Ginny finishes, when their lips part.

"It's OK, it's OK, it's OK," he replies, with half of a laugh, in between the kisses he's covering Ginny's face with. Soon enough, they forget about their apologies and reassurances and instead they're saying things like "I love you" and "God, I've missed you", and soon they're not even talking at all anymore, and the only sounds penetrating the muffled quiet of the room are soft sighs and even softer moans.

Eventually, evening rolls around and they are joined by Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Ron, but by then Harry and Ginny are fully clothed and Ginny is sitting, propped up against the pillow and the headboard, with Harry's head resting on her chest. He probably hasn't slept properly in weeks, and she could use some rest as well, but she can't justify falling asleep just yet, not when she can look at him and marvel at his presence. Ron is the only one who really cares that she is there: she gets a friendly "Hey, Ginny" from Dean and Seamus, and a smile from Neville, while Ron stops in the doorway as if rooted to the spot.

"You- Harry- what-" Ron splutters, beet red and glaring at Ginny. She frowns and motions at him to shut up, and is extremely shocked when he stares for another minute before shaking his head, and crawling into his own bed with a cross "Tell him he'd better keep his hands to himself, at least while I'm in the room."

Ginny blinks in surprise at Ron's back, and then smiles. The other boys get into bed as well, and quickly fall asleep. Ginny can hear Neville snoring across the room. She looks down at Harry in the moonlight that's streaming in the window, and thinks that, even though many good witches and wizards have been killed, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and countless others, there is enough hope left to get the wizarding world, and Ginny herself, through. The warmth of Harry's breath on her neck is a constant reminder of this. So, with Voldemort killed, her remaining family and friends safe within the walls of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter sleeping peacefully beside her, Ginny Weasley can finally, finally sleep.


End file.
